Meeting at Malkins
by petulantpages
Summary: Who knew such a small event could change everything? A cup of coffee spills, and Draco Malfoy finds himself in a dangerous game of tug-of-war between family and love. Drarry. Rated M for later scenes. Slow burn. Warnings for talk of abuse? I haven't completely decided yet.
1. Chapter 1

Hi Guys! So this story isn't finished yet and I'm pretty bad about writing regularly, so be warned. However, I'm on the site a lot so if you review, favorite, and follow I'll be more motivated to write. I have a few chapters so far, so there will be a buffer for my bad habits.

This is my first published fanfic, so let me know if there's anything that's driving you up a wall about the way I'm doing things. I can't promise to change, but I promise to read and at least consider it.

Also, I had a bit of a formatting issue with the site, I tried to fix is all but there might still be a couple of places where the formatting text is in the document. Sorry about that.

I OWN NOTHING! As attached as I am to these characters and this world, they're unfortunately the brain babies of J.K. Rowling, not me.

Special disclaimer: this chapter contains dialogue between Harry and Draco that is directly from the books, I do not lay any claim to it, it is entirely 100% JK Rowling's work. I'm just using this scene as a diversion point for how things could have gone differently, and I wanted to keep things the same up until that specific moment.

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Melinda Malkin loved the end of July, the beginning of August. For a few weeks, every other customer was a dewey-eyed eleven year old popping in for a fresh set of school robes. Not only was the order easy to fulfill, but the excitement on the kids faces, and the awe on those of the muggleborns, made her feel like smiling all day. She laid a sixth set on top of the freshly folded pile, all ready to be fitted to their new owners when the children should inevitably come in, and smiled to herself. Back in the main store, the bell on the door tinkled. Melinda quickly stepped down from her footstool and swept out of the back room, ensuring her own mauve robes would billow just enough to impress a discerning customer with their quality, and turned towards the door. Her lips quirked into what she hoped would look like a smile. "Mr. Malfoy, what a lovely surprise. Your robes for the next Ministry gala aren't finished yet, I'm afraid. I'll have them for you on Friday, as agreed."

The blonde lifted one corner of his upper lip. "Fine, Melinda. Though I do hope you can manage to fit a set of school robes for my son before Friday. Draco!"

Melinda eyed the boy as he stepped into the shop, sidling around his father. She saw the younger Malfoy from tie to time, of course, but as she had his measurements on file, the older Malfoy tended to have her make the boy's robes without actually seeing the him, for reasons known only to Mr. Malfoy. Draco'd certainly grown since he was last in the shop. She'd known that, from the measurements on file, but to see it was something different. Growth wasn't just about inches. The last time Melinda had seen Draco, he was a wide-eyed boy who loved purple and didn't want to wear anything but, who begged and begged and begged for purple robes, but so endearingly that Melinda had happily gone against the elder Malfoy's directions and sewn a purple lining into the outfit. The entire time, the boy prattled on about the snake in the garden, who Draco had named Albert. Melinda still remembered how much that boy had loved that snake. Remembering that boy, Melinda could hardly reconcile him with the one stood before her now. This boy's eyebrows were sunk low over his eyes, fighting to meet each other in the middle but driven apart by a nose so high in the air that she was surprised he could see over it, and the mouth seemed to have been manhandled into a smushed frown fit only for an unhappy weasel. "Hello, Draco, it's a pleasure to see you again. Step up here, please."

"I don't want you dressing him in the standard wear, Melinda. Sew him a whole set from scratch if you must, but I want him properly dressed at Hogwarts."

Melinda wasn't sure who Malfoy thought his son would need to impress, as she was quite certain very few students, if any, would be able to tell that Draco's robes were more costly, and those students would most probably be the ones that already knew Draco's status in society, but nevertheless, she hummed her agreement. She tended not to argue with Malfoy when he wanted to write her a bigger paycheck, even if it meant extra work and extra time with the aforementioned thorn in her side.

The door tinkled again and to Melinda's relief, her assistant for the day, Matha Waterford, stepped into the shop, nearly running into Malfoy as she looked up from her collection of coffee cups with a squeak. The blonde raised one eyebrow at the girl, who quickly diverted her gaze and skirted around both Malfoys and hurried into the back of the shop to set down the cups.

"Go on, Draco, step up. He'll be a while, Mr. Malfoy, if you have other errands to run, feel free."

"The man sniffed, as if to say he wasn't leaving due to any suggestions from emher/em, and swept back through the tinkling door. Melinda turned to see Draco already stood up on the stool. She smiled warmly at him, hoping to get to the sweet little boy she remembered. "How are you, Draco?"

The boy smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she walked up behind him, but it was cold and hard, and didn't quite reach his eyes. "Mr. Malfoy is fine, Melinda. I'm well. Yourself?"

"Fine," she murmured, staring back at him in the mirror. "Er… well, last you were here there was a snake, Albert? You wanted to keep him."

"I don't recall. My robes, Melinda?"

Giving up, she turned to the back room and rose her voice just a bit. "Martha? Could you find me a set of our good black robes and come fit Mr. Malfoy?"

As soon as she heard the affirmative from the assistant, Melinda moved to examine the coffees in the back corner. Two were marked Chocolate Pomegranate, her favorite, so she took one and took a careful sip. A glance back at the boy showed him staring at the mirror, not admiring himself, just staring. Focused. Completely different from the younger version that had scampered to the window to people-watch every time she turned her back.

Martha returned with the robes and tossed them over Draco's head, who made a disgruntled sound and glared as she stuffed his arms through the holes.

"Did we really need this much coffee, Martha?"

"We've still got the Notts' orders for tomorrow and whatever else comes in today, it could be another late one. You're welcome."

Melinda smiled as the bell tinkled again and a scrawny boy walked in, peering around the shop with wide green eyes from under a mess of black hair. She set down her coffee and rushed to the front of the shop. "Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Considering the boy's shocked look, she decided not to wait on a response and instead swept him to the back of the shop and onto a stool just next to the Malfoy boy./p  
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"Hello. Hogwarts, too?" Draco asked.

"Yes," the boy managed, glancing sidelong at Draco.

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms." Melinda tried not to laugh as she imagined Draco trying to drag his father anywhere. His mother, maybe, but the elder Malfoy, though he spoiled his son, was not one to be controlled by him. "I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." The other boy didn't answer, and Melinda saw Draco shoot an irritated look at him. "Do _you_ have a broom?"

"No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

Melinda was starting to feel very sorry for the boy. She wondered if he had any idea what Draco was talking about, or if he'd even known about the wizarding world before he'd received his letter. She redoubled her efforts on his hem. The best thing she could do for him was to get him out of there before Draco could imprint on the poor boy and find reason to be cruel to him at school.

"I say, look at that man!"

Melinda did look, and there was Hagrid. Everyone knew Hagrid, Melinda thought, he spent enough time in Diagon Alley, did enough business on Dumbledore's behalf. He was friendly and quite talkative, particularly after a drink or two, so he met his share of people, and he wasn't easy to forget. She smiled as the big man waved wildly at her charge, pleased that at least the boy would be returning to a kind presence after the conversation with Draco.

"I think he's brilliant," the boy was saying, his voice tighter and higher than it had been before.

" _Do_ you? Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead." Melinda frowned at her pin as it pricked her finger. She pulled it out and laid it aside.

"Oh, sorry." Draco didn't sound sorry. "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

Suddenly, Martha hissed and Draco yelped. "Merlin! I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy."

Melinda looked over to see Martha's coffee on Draco's robes, on the floor, on Martha… everywhere but in the cup. She stood up and interrupted the stream of apologies, "Martha, go get yourself cleaned up, I'll take care of these robes. Mr. Malfoy, are you alright?"

"Aside from soggy socks, you mean?"

"Of course, I can clean those for you right quick. The shoes, too, if you like?"

I like." The blonde handed over the socks and shoes after Melinda had pulled the robes over his head and she quickly went into the back room. Martha was nowhere to be seen, so Melinda figured she had gone upstairs. Melinda knew her assistants keep some items in the mud room up there, so hopefully Martha had a change of clothes. Melinda had to focus on saving the expensive robes. And keep an ear on those boys in case someone struck a nerve. But it was quiet. At least at first.

"If you meant were they a witch and wizard, then yes." The venom in the boy's voice was heavy.

"Oh." There was a long pause. "I really am sorry. Have they been dead… long?"

"I was a baby."

"Oh."

Another long pause, this one long enough for Melinda to gently separate the coffee from the fabric fibers with a spell of her own making, before the boy spoke up again.

"What are the Houses?"

"What?"

"Well, you said something about Houses, and Slytherin and Hufflepuff, and I just… I didn't know what you meant."

"How do you not know about the Hogwarts Houses? I thought you said your parents were like us?"

"They were… but my aunt and uncle aren't."

"Oh. But surely you knew you were a wizard?"

"They tried to stop me from being one."

"That's ridiculous."

"You know when you do that to your face it looks ridiculous."

"Do what?"

"I dunno, that thing with your lip that makes it look like you think I'm a bug on your windshield."

"My what?"

"Your windshield."

"What in Merlin's name is a windshield?"

"It's the glass on the front of a car that protects the passengers from the wind while they drive… you do have cars in the wizarding world, don't you?" Melinda thought the boy sounded rather proud, perhaps to know something Draco didn't.

"We don't need them. Not when you've got the Floo, and Apparition, and brooms and the train. At Hogwarts they've got carriages, but I don't think they've got windshields."

"Oh. Well see, when you drive a car, bugs hit the glass, and they get smashed on the windshield, and it's annoying because there's this big splotch of bug guts right in front of your eyes while you're trying to drive and sometimes it just won't go away even with the windshield wipers. When I don't know something or you disagree you look at me like I'm a bug on your windshield."

"Oh. And that's clever, for muggles?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it clever. It's just something that's there, like a roof. It serves a purpose, but no one really notices it or does anything with it."

"That's… interesting."

There was more silence.

"Melinda? How're the robes?"

Melinda quickly turned to shush Martha, then realized she'd completely forgotten the robes and Mr. Malfoy would likely be back soon. But she wanted to give the boys another moment. This mystery boy seemed to be getting through to Draco, and Melinda couldn't think of anything she wanted more, in that moment, than for the little boy with wide, grey eyes to come back.

"Did you yelp?"

"No. Malfoy's don't yelp."

"You definitely yelped."

"I did not!"

"Don't get mad, I yelp when I spill hot water on myself, too. It hurts, even if it's not hot enough to burn, and it's surprising."

"And do you do this a lot?"

"Probably more than you do. So I'm more used to it, and I still yelp. So you don't have to feel bad for yelping. But it can still be funny, can't it?"

"I suppose."

Martha touched Melinda's shoulder. "Mr. Malfoy will return soon. We should get back to work."

Melinda nodded reluctantly and studied her handiwork on the robe again. Spotless. Like it had never happened. "You finish up on the boy and I'll get Mr. Malfoy done."

Martha nodded and returned to the room, followed shortly by Melinda. The boys didn't speak anymore, as if they weren't sure how to interact with others in the room. So when Martha finished the boy's school robes, rung him up, and sent him out the door, Melinda looked up to see him casting an uncertain glance back at Draco, and looked up in time to see Draco glance at the door after it shut.

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I hope you guys liked the first chapter! I'll try to have more up, soon. I'm not entirely sure where this story is going to take me, but hopefully it's super fun and full of smut. Also, if you like my writing, check out my website: carsoncosta dot com. My goal is to become a novelist, so if you join my newsletter, you'll be among the first to know when I have original stories out. And those will happen way more often than updates here, since, you know, actual career writing takes precedent over super-duper-fun fanfics. Unfortunately.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

As you know, none of the persons, places, or things belong to me. Sad but true. I'm posting this second chapter so soon after the first because they're relatively short chapters, and the third one is also done so I still have a bit of buffer time-wise. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Review so I know if you guys like it!

Also, to all the college students out there: I hope your finals go/have gone well, congrats to grads, and happy summer!

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"Draco! Draco are you up here?" Pansy peered around the corner towards yet another balcony, the third she'd checked so far. He was bound to be on one of them, she was sure of it. Draco had always liked the night air. Said the world seemed simpler at night, the air cleaner, the sky gentler, the earth quieter. Pansy had never thought much of it, night was dark, day wasn't, and that was really all she needed to know, but for Draco it was comforting. He had been disappearing from these dumb parties for as long as Pansy could remember, always turning up on one balcony or another, usually on the one furthest from the moon. Pansy, however, didn't give two Knuts about astronomy and never knew which one that would happen to be at any given moment. So she wandered the house, peeking at balconies, until she found one with its doors open.

Luckily, she seemed to have found this particular night's balcony. The rest of her body followed her head around the corner, the thick tulle of her skirt hissing as it squeezed between the corner of the wall and her leg. Pansy hated tulle, but her mother loved it, and her father couldn't tell the difference between tulle and taffeta, so she ended up with a closet full of tulle, stuffed full of old dresses that she would never wear again. She couldn't wait to add this particular monstrosity to the list. It was a revolting shade, something like lavender but with a green sheen, putrescent in some lights. Pansy's mother said it looked like trails of stardust in the evening sky. Pansy said it looked like the inside of her little cousin's diapers after the kid ate all the purple flowers off her birthday cake.

She stepped out onto the balcony. Draco, as predicted, had both arms folded on the balcony railing and his chin nestled on the drop where his wrists crossed. Pansy stopped to study him for a minute, trying to decide which mood had driven him from high society this time.

"That's odd."

"What is?" he answered, soundly genuinely curious, though he didn't budge.

"I can't tell why you left."

"I always leave."

"Yes, I know, and I always find you, and I can always tell why you left. To be fair, sometimes it's obvious. There's a scene or something, or things were tense with your father… something the whole room could figure out, but typically it isn't. But I can always tell. Tonight, I can't."

Draco didn't answer, nor did he give any indication that he'd even heard her, so Pansy decided to go on. "Sometimes you're bothered by something someone said that you didn't agree with, but you had to pretend to agree with and not ask questions, so you're irritated and tense and your shoulders bunch up and you lock your arms straight against the railing as if you wish you could push yourself into adulthood. Sometimes something happened with your father that wasn't obvious, and you sit on the railing and look down as if you hope a wind will come and push you off. When you're sad you lean back over the railing and stare straight up at the stars so you can't see anything else, and when you're lonely you stand there watching the hallway because you're waiting for me to show up. Sometimes you're just tired of all the pretenses and the weight of the expectations, and you just stand there as if someone hit pause on you mid-step, and you look out across the grounds as if trying to see another life on the other side of them. I know exactly what to say for each and every one of those situations because I've seen them all a thousand times. I know when to tell a joke, when to ask if you're ok, when to tell you to be ok, when to stay quiet, when to agree and disagree. But I don't know what to do right now."

A moment passed, and then Draco laughed shortly. "Merlin, Pans, that's sort of creepy."

Pansy heard the gentle lilt of his voice and smiled, "I'm your best friend, Dray, and you're bloody terrifying when you're mad. I like knowing how to keep on your better side."

"Come here, then."

She joined him at the balcony, and he finally lifted his head. "Look there. See that blurry bit, kind of looks like it's part of the Milky Way but it's cut off from the main bit? That's the Andromeda Galaxy. It's the closest galaxy to ours and it's 2.5 million lightyears away."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't just come out here when there are parties. I wanted to know what I was spending so much time looking at."

"Well, someone's getting an O in Astronomy."

Draco frowned. "I'm not sure I'm going to take Astronomy. Seems everything I could want to know, I can find in books. And it won't help me any when I take over the Malfoy holdings. As Father keeps reminding me. Staring at the stars is a waste of my time. It's how I choose to waste my time, but that doesn't mean I have to make a business of it."

"Alright, fine, then. So you're just out here to look at stars? It didn't look like you were looking at the sky when I got here."

Draco ducked his head again. Pansy thought she could make out a gentle smile on his lips. "What is it, Dray?"

"I was thinking about a boy I met in Madam Malkins when we went in for my robes."

"Diagon Alley? Wasn't that nearly a month ago?"

"It was."

"And you're just now thinking about this encounter."

"No, I… well I've been thinking about it rather a lot, actually."

Pansy's eyebrows bunched together as she thought, trying to decide what to make of that. "Was there… something peculiar about it?"

"I think I should have said something. Gotten his name, maybe, or found out if he was interested in being friends."

"Oh. Do you… think you need friends, Draco?" Pansy picked at the corner of one nail. She wondered how much nail polish she could chip off by the end of the night.

"No, Pans, I've got you and Theo and Blaise and Crabbe and Goyle. The last two aren't good for much but I know you always have my back and I trust Theo and Blaise is always good for a laugh. I'm not looking to replace you."

"Then why is this bothering you?"

"He just… said something. It made me wonder if maybe I could learn something from him."

Pansy got the feeling she wasn't going to get much more out of him. So she shrugged. "Well, he's going to Hogwarts, right? If you really want him to be your friend, just go talk to him next time you see him. You're Draco Malfoy, it's not like he's going to say no."

"I'm not so sure. I get the feeling if anyone would, it would be him."

"That doesn't sound like the Draco Malfoy I know."

Draco smiled at her, and Pansy felt her stomach flip. She was tired of talking about someone else. It was time to get Draco's attention back where it belonged. On _her_.

"Come on, party pooper, let's go show your parents how well we can waltz, hmm? Get them off your back for the rest of the night?"

Draco laughed shortly, "Alright, let's go." He gave one last, long look at the sky, and then Pansy took his arm and they returned to the ballroom together, where their friends and the families were gathered to celebrate the start of their studies at Hogwarts.

That night, after everyone had gone home and Draco was laying in bed, looking up at the canopy, his mind was flooded with the memory of the boy. The look on his face when he told Draco that his expression made him feel like a bug on a shield. He hadn't looked offended, really. More sad than anything. But Draco couldn't pin down exactly what was wrong with the expression. It hadn't looked sad like Draco had felt when his father had killed his Crup puppy. He hadn't looked sad for himself. It was almost like he expected Draco to look at him that way.

Draco shook his head. This thinking wasn't going to get him anywhere, and he needed to be well rested for the trip to Hogwarts in the morning.

"Dobby?" he murmured. With a loud _pop_ , the elf appeared at the side of his bed.

"What can Dobby be doing for Master Draco, sir?"

"I can't sleep."

Dobby tugged his ears, glancing anxiously at the door. "Master Lucius is saying Dobby isn't to be telling Master Draco stories."

Draco bit his lip. "I… I don't want you to punish yourself, Dobby, but I'm just so anxious for Hogwarts. What if nobody likes me?"

What if the brunette from Madam Malkins didn't like him?

The elf was frantically shaking his head. " _Everyone_ will like Master Draco, sir. Dobby knows so. Master Draco is a good Master."

Draco bit his lip. He thought if he was a good master, he would have "accidentally" freed the elf by now. He was selfish, really. Dobby had to keep enduring his father so Draco could get a little comfort when he was feeling weak. Like now.

"Dobby… Father said not to _tell_ me stories, right?" The eld nodded. "Well, could you _show_ me a story?"

The elf squealed, none to quiet, but the Manor was large enough that Draco knew his parents wouldn't hear, so he didn't bother shushing him. " _Yes_ , Master Draco! Master Draco is so smart!"

Draco preened under the attention, and settled into bed. "Go on, then."

He watched as figures, like shadows, moved across his canopy. It was a story Dobby had told him before, but Draco didn't mind, it was different seeing it like this, anyway. It was about a wizard who did everything he could to protect his family, even slaying a dragon for them, but they never appreciated him. Until one day he met a witch who had lost her wand in a stream, and he helped her find it. Her appreciation was something he'd never known before, and when the town was threatened by a volcano that had been enhanced with Fiendfyre, he saved the girl rather than his family, and they went on to rule a great empire together, have lots of beautiful children, and live happily ever after.

Draco feel asleep as the shadow-witch was taking the shadow-wizards face in her hands and kissing him after they escaped the volcano. He thought the kissing was kind of gross, but he did like the story. It was one of his favorites.

After all, who didn't want to be appreciated?

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Don't forget, if you like my work check out carsoncosta dot com for some of my original pieces.

All my best


	3. Chapter 3

Special disclaimer: this chapter contains dialogue between Harry and Draco that is directly from the books, I do not lay any claim to it, it is entirely 100% JK Rowling's work. Theres is obvious all of JK Rowling's brilliance with my little flair.

I know my chapters so far have been pretty short. I have some later chapters that are way longer, but it's harder with these early scenes from the first book because I am trying to keep Harry's basic Hogwarts life more or less the same, and Draco being a right git basically structured Harry's entire life in first year. So I'm treading delicately and thus has combined several scenes to make this chapter a little longer. I hope you guys enjoy!

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Harry was feeling rather as if he'd won the lottery. He'd never felt so nice, just relaxed and unworried and happy, sitting in a pile of sweets with a new friend who was all to happy to teach him everything there was to know about Quidditch, which Harry was sure had to be the most fascinating game ever invented. So when the compartment door slid open a third time, Harry wasn't the slightest bit concerned, though he was quite sure that this train ride had quite a few more interruptions than train rides usually had. But when three boys stepped into the compartment, Harry instantly recognized the middle one, and his stomach dropped a bit. He was pleased, though, to see a similar effect on the pale boy.

"It's you? You're Harry Potter?"

"So I'm told," Harry said, his voice chill.

"Sorry, they were saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this car. I didn't expect you."

"Disappointed?"

"Not at all." Draco smiled a bit, though Harry thought it looked strange on the pointy face.

Harry looked over the other two boys, who looked rather like body guards, being bigger and thicker than Draco, and blinking stupidly as they looked aimlessly around the cabin.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," the blonde said, glancing briefly between Harry and his friends. He paused, then returned his gaze to Harry and tried the strange smile again. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Harry heard Ron cough behind him, poorly concealing a laugh, and he saw the instant change in Malfoy's features. The smile vanished and a faint, crazed look took his eyes. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are." Draco spat. "My father told me all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He turned back to Harry, eyes still blazing. "You'll soon find some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go…" he paused, as if taking in Harry's expression, which he knew was just a bit repulsed. "What? What is it?" He paused, studying Harry's expression. He recoiled a bit. "Now you're looking at me like I'm a bug on a… what was it? Car shield?" He studied Harry again. "Is that what I look like when I do it?"

"No, you're worse."

"Oh. Well why are you looking at me that way?"

"Do you even hear yourself? You were insulting my friend. You sound like you think the whole world is beneath you."

Draco frowned. "I mean, not the _whole_ world, you're certainly up there, and I suppose the Minister deserves some credit given the power he wields, but…"

"Are you serious?"

Draco frowned harder, "What? I don't see what's wrong with that. I'm a _Malfoy_. Malfoys are just better."

"It doesn't work like that. Being rich or well bred or whatever doesn't make you great. Being a good person does." Harry shook his head, studying the blond while he took that in. The boy looked more confused than ever.

"I don't understand."

"People won't respect you just for being born right. You've got to earn it."

"People _do_ respect me."

"I doubt it. They're afraid of you so they pretend to respect you."

"It's the same thing"

"No it's not."

"It's not?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if they don't really like you, they won't help you when you actually need it."

"Will you…" Draco swallowed hard. He looked at his bodyguards, friends, whatever they were. The pair looked like they hadn't understood a word of the exchange, so Draco took a breath, glancing irritably at Ron before he finished his sentence. "Will you show me?"

"What?" It was Harry's turn to be confused. He glanced at Ron, too. The redhead looked like steam was about to come out his ears.

"You say it's different to earn someone's respect, someone's friendship. Will you show me what… how that is?"

"Don't do it, Harry. It's just some trick of his." Ron said.

Draco's cheeks turned pink, "It is not, Weasel, what would you know of it, anyway?"

"I know your parents fought for You-Know-Who. And he tried to kill Harry. You probably just want to finish the job." Ron was twitching now, Scabbers squealing and scratching as his grip tightened.

Draco drew himself up again, sneering. "They were cursed, as everyone knows, do your research. This has got nothing to do with any of that."

"Oh, come off it. The Malfoys are just bullies."

"The Weasleys are just blood traitors."

"Well, you're both being ridiculous," Harry injected, glancing from one boy to the other cooly.

"I suppose that's part of the 'earning respect' thing?" Malfoy asked.

"Sure is."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to, but you remind me of my cousin when you talk like that."

"And that's bad?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't really want to get into what Privet Drive was like, but it was out there now, and he supposed there wasn't much he could do about that. "Yeah, bad."

Malfoy glanced around the compartment again, as if afraid something would jump out and bite him. Then he stepped a little further inside, closer to Harry. Ron leapt to his feet, scowling, but the other boys ignored him. "Right, well." Malfoy studied Harry a moment and then stuck out his hand.

Harry smiled awkwardly, met Malfoy's eyes, and took it.

Just then, the carriage door slid open again. "Oh, my. What have you all been doing?" Hermione Granger asked.

"Just talking." Harry said.

"Can we help you with something?" Ron asked, huffing at the brunette.

Harry noticed Draco hadn't budged. He hadn't so much as looked at the girl and he was still hanging on to Harry's hand. He gently tugged his hand back from the blond, eying him uncertainly, and sat heavily back on the seat. He patted the bench next to him, indicating for Malfoy to sit, if he was so inclined, and picked up another chocolate frog from the pile. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't seem to have noticed Malfoy's stillness.

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on. I've just been to ask the conductor and we'll be arriving soon. They seem prepared." She nodded to Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Draco sat awkwardly, careful to keep his gaze from the brunette. Harry studied him, curious.

"Do you mind leaving while we change?" Ron asked with a scowl.

"All right, there's no reason to be upset." She spun on her heel and left.

"What is it?" Harry asked, the moment the door had shut behind her.

"I decided it would be best that I didn't speak to her."

"Why?"

"I didn't think you would like what I had to say."

"Well, that's a start, I guess."

"You guess?" Malfoy asked, his brow furrowing. "Which would you prefer? I speak my mind or I keep my mouth shut?"

"Well if you're going to be awful, that's not good, and it's not going to earn respect like we were talking about. But if you're not saying what you think, then we're not really friends, are we? Friends tell each other things, even if they're not perfect. Friends are supposed to like even the worst parts of each other, aren't they?"

Malfoy looked even more puzzled by that. "I don't know. I suppose."

"Alright. Well, what was it, then?"

Malfoy looked at his hands and picked at a cuticle, as if his words meant very little to him, but Harry figured it was more for a distraction than anything. "She's muggleborn. I've been taught that they're much less than us. They shouldn't have magic at all, let alone be allowed into Hogwarts."

"Is that what you think, or is that just what you've been told?"

"It's what I think."

"Do you know any muggleborns?"

"Now I do."

"Well, maybe they can change your mind." Harry smiled. He looked at Ron, who was scowling at his candy-wrapper-covered rat. "Guess we should change, then?"

"Guess so," Ron answered sullenly.

"We'd best return to our compartment. Collect our things." Malfoy stood, subtly brushing off the seat of his robes. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Potter."

"See you, Malfoy," Harry smiled again, and was rewarded with that awkward smile that Malfoy was so proficient at.

As they changed, Ron didn't utter a word.

"You alright?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. Brilliant."

"Ron, if there's something wrong, I wish you would say…"

"I just didn't think you were like that, is all."

"Like _what_?"

"Like _him_."

Harry was quiet for a minute, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't quite think of anything to say. So he got out his robes in silence, changed, and smiled awkwardly when he caught Ron's eye. The redhead didn't smile back, and Harry was relieved when he felt the train start to slow.

* * *

The castle was bustling, as it always was this time of year, and the Sorting Hat found himself as the guest of honor, also as it always was. He rather liked this part the best. The waiting for the children to come in. Once the sorting started it was all over too quickly, and then he sat and waited another year. But this part, perched on the podium by the teacher's desk, elevated, on display, all the students casting glances at him and reliving memories of their own sortings… these moments were delicious.

But, as always, the sorting began. The students filed in, and the names began to be read off, and there were suddenly so many delicious minds to explore. The flood of information always hit him like a ton of bricks. It all came at once. Sometimes that made it easy, because all the information was saying the same thing, but other times he had to sort through the information and try to suss out some kind of pattern. Any kind of pattern. And with that, he had to try to see the bloody future, which wasn't one of the things he'd been charmed to do. He could think, he could speak, he could read minds, and he could expand the space within his brim, but he could not predict the future. However, the kids seemed to respond better when they thought he could, so he just told them something that sounded prophetic and went with his gut. Which, for a hat, he thought was pretty impressive.

He landed on yet another head and had hardly touched the boy when he started to shout "SLYTHERIN!"

Except he didn't make it through the first syllable. McGonagall hesitated, but ultimately dropped him onto the boy's head.

"Well that's interesting."

 _What is?_ The boy thought frantically.

"There are the seeds of change in your mind. To send you to Slytherin may condemn you to a terrible fate, and seal your path. However, if I place you elsewhere, you may never be entirely accepted but you may be happier."

 _Oh, Merlin, please put me in Slytherin, please Slytherin._

"Are you certain? Slytherin, while what you're accustomed to, may only hurt you."

 _Yes, please, Slytherin, please!_

Well, there was really only so much a hat could do, and he couldn't deny that the boy was overwhelmingly suited to Slytherin. There was the potential for greatness, a deep-seated ambition, the cleverness, and the legacy. What would come of it… well, the Sorting Hat wasn't endowed with the Sight.

"SYLTHERIN," he bellowed, though less enthusiastically than he had intended to a few moments before. The Great Hall broke out in mutters while the Slytherin table clapped demurely and exchanged glances with one another.

The Sorting continued under the general hum of exchanged whispers, until McGonagall announced, "Harry Potter!"

Silence fell for the briefest of moments before the entire room reached a dull roar. The noise went on a minute before Dumbledore stood and cast a withering stare over the tables and the students dropped their voices again.

Now _this_ was a complicated mind.

"My, my. You don't know what you want me to do with you, do you? Hmm… let's see. There's the courage of Gryffindor there, certainly, but also a fierce loyalty that would suit you to Hufflepuff. And the potential… Slytherin could take you far."

 _Not Slytherin..._

"Why ever not? You already have a friend there, it seems."

 _They scare me._

The hat pulled out of the boy's head long enough to glance at the Slytherin table, all of whom were either scowling or glancing suspiciously at the boy he had almost placed elsewhere.

"I see. Despite that, they could help make you great…"

 _I don't want to be great, I just don't want to be scared and sad anymore._

Well, that made up his mind, but the Sorting Hat still had to check. "Really? Are you quite certain? Yes? Well, then, better be….

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The boy scampered off to a raucous Gryffindor table, and the Sorting Hat had a feeling… not a premonition, but a feeling, that he'd made the right decision.

* * *

Potter clearly had no idea what Snape was talking about, and it made Draco wince for him, just a bit. True, they hadn't spoken since the train. But Harry had said they were friends, weren't they? So Draco had to feel a little bad for him. Even if he really thought anyone studying magic ought to know potions ingredients by heart.

"I don't know, sir."

Draco cringed. His Godfather was going to hate that.

"Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything."

Draco groaned inwardly, wondering what Potter had done so early in the year to warrant Snape singling him out like this. Draco had been on the end of just such theatrics many times, but only when he did something really stupid, like melt his cauldron.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

The Granger girl was apparently trying to grow an extra inch by sheer force of will, but Harry only cast a furtive glance around and answered through gritted teeth. "I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Draco saw the Gryffindor flush, but he looked more angry than embarrassed, which Draco was sure wouldn't satisfy his Godfather. And, sure enough:

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Well, at least Draco could help with that one. He stared Harry down, hoping to catch the other boy's eye. As if he'd felt him staring, he glanced over at Draco. The blonde gave his head a slight shake, hand sweeping casually across his throat.

"There… isn't any, sir."

The classroom was silent for a long moment, and Potter shifted uncomfortably. "They're the same thing," he added, uncertainly.

"I heard you the first time, Potter. One point from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn."

Draco couldn't help but laugh a little at that. Apparently, there would be no winning for Potter. He watched him as Snape launched into his dramatic and prickly explanation of the answers to his questions. He could tell Harry still hadn't been sure if Draco had actually helped him when Snape said, "And _yes_ , monkshood and wolfsbane are both names for the plant aconite."

Harry instantly jolted his head around to beam at Draco, which made Draco flush and look around awkwardly, hoping no one, especially Snape, had seen. He did have a reputation to protect, after all. No coddling Gryffindors allowed.

"Well? Why aren't you copying that down?"

Draco smirked to himself. Potions would certainly be an interesting class.

He set about copying down the notes, which were mostly things Snape had already taught him, years ago, to prepare them for the following class, which was an extremely simple potion base, it wouldn't even properly do anything, but was used to stabilize some of the more complex potions. Perhaps the class wouldn't be quite so interesting, after all.

He packed up his notes and supplies and made his way out of the room, trying to remember what he had next, when Potter appeared next to him, to a couple of growls from Crabbe and Goyle.

"Thanks for the help," the Gryffindor said with a grin.

"Well, I couldn't have you coming off too lacking, or I would be forced to distance myself from you publicly." He sniffed, nose tilted up.

"See, now that's not very friendly."

Draco tilted his head, glancing at Potter's flickering smile. "Well… why else would I have done it?"

"Don't you know?" Potter's forehead crinkled.

Draco fidgeted with his books as he thought about it. There must have been a reason. He didn't make a habit of interfering with others. "No. It just sort of happened."

"Well, maybe you know more about being a friend than you thought."

Draco hummed, not eager to analyze his motives just then. "What did you do to get Snape so mad, anyway?"

The Gryffindor groaned, tossed his head back and his hands up. "I don't know. He was just glaring at me during the feast, and I never spoke to him before this morning." He looked hopefully at Draco. "Could you find out for me?"

Draco waved a hand, "Perhaps, Potter, but don't get your hopes up."

In the next moment, Draco felt tightening around him, lightly, as if testing his pliability. "Thank you, Draco."

Draco patted the hands locked over his elbow. He wasn't entirely sure if it constituted a proper hug, seeing as Harry had come at him from the side and restricted Draco's arms in the process. He squirmed a bit. It wasn't _bad_ , he supposed.

He might even get used to it.

* * *

Hi guys! Once again, thanks for reading. I'm kind of struggling with the next bit so be patient with me. Reviews will encourage me to write more and faster!

Just to remind you, I'm also an aspiring novelist and write original stories, too. Check it out at carsoncosta dot com. Thanks!

All my best


	4. Chapter 4

Ok, so major apologies on my part for not posting this sooner... I've been distracted and I didn't like how the story was going. I'm trying to find a balance between sticking close enough to the books that I don't end up having to completely rework the entire plot of a seven-book-series, and making it different enough that you don't feel like you're just re-reading the books. The good news is, we're closer to the end of the first book than we are to the beginning! And I'm planning on really breaking off from the canon in books 2-4, so it should get interesting around there. Bear with me.

Hopefully I'll be moving a little faster on this since Kikistone and I are going to be each other's naggers. I'm going to nag her about her fic, Malfoy Marriage Act, and she's going to nag me about this one.

Unbetaed, if you'd like to beta, please let me know, because by the time I finish a scene I'm wayyyy too lazy to read through for typos.

J.K. Rowling's sandbox, I just play here.

* * *

Draco was feeling supremely irritated, and it showed. Crabbe and Goyle usually weren't ones to notice these things, so they figured if even they had noticed it, Draco had to be at almost peak irritation. It was a good reason to stay an extra step behind him. So they did that. It was like magic, how drastically the view changed, just from that extra step. Suddenly Draco's head was actually in their line of sight, instead of lower and sort of difficult to keep track of, if they got distracted by anything. This new view really offered a new perspective. Now they could clearly see that no matter what, if Potter was in the room, Draco's head was turned in his direction. By the time either they or Potter left the room, Draco's irritation would skyrocket.

Crabbe and Goyle had no idea what it meant or how it boded for them, but if Potter was the problem, well, they knew how to take care of problems. So they glowered at him whenever he was in the room. Potter didn't notice them much, but on the few occasions he did, he looked successfully warned off, which made the pair feel proud.

Then there was the flying lesson. Crabbe and Goyle didn't notice much, but they noticed when Draco stared hard at Potter before he went for the Remembrall. Potter had looked a bit confused. And then Draco had gotten into the air and Potter had stopped looking confused and started looking determined, and gone after him. The next thing Crabbe and Goyle knew, McGonagall was marching out of the castle, Potter was obviously in trouble and Draco looked to have gotten off Scot free. That ought to keep Draco happy for a while. Right?

No. That evening, at dinner, Crabbe and Goyle discovered they'd been very, very wrong.

"The nerve of Potter! Honestly, can you believe him?" Draco was raving.

"Er, no?" Goyle said, figuring it was the safest response.

"But you put him in his place today, Draco!" Crabbe added enthusiastically.

Unfortunately, that only made Draco glare more fiercely. "His place? His place should be with me! He said he's my friend and now he's nowhere to be found, only looks at me when he doesn't know the answer to a question. He is completely out of his place, Crabbe."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances. Trying to scare Potter off probably had not, in fact, been the best way to fix Draco's irritation.

"Well… what should we do?" Goyle asked.

Draco sniffed. "Nothing. If the ignorant sod doesn't want to be my friend, then I don't want to be _his_."

So they _had_ been right! Right? They weren't quite sure, but Draco chattered on and off the rest of the meal, which was usually a good sign, so the two passed the problem off as solved.

Of course, a smart Hogwarts student knows never to count on Crabbe and Goyle to get it right.

A haphazardly folded bit of parchment dropped onto the table next to Draco's plate. The blonde glanced at the snowy owl that had dropped it, then unfolded it and scowled. He tossed the parchment down as if it had insulted him. Crabbe and Goyle leaned forward. Between them, they managed to piece the whole message together.

 _I really think you should apologize to Neville. -Harry_

"Oh, I'll apologize to Longbottom, Potter," Draco muttered darkly, scribbling on his own bit of parchment and shoving it towards the startled owl.

"What'd you say, Draco?" Goyle asked as the owl fluttered subtly over to Gryffindor table.

"That they could meet me in the trophy room at midnight and I would apologize."

"We're sneaking out?" Crabbe asked, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Of course not, you idiot. Let Potter see how it feels to be ignored."

And the delighted smirk on Draco's face reassured them that he really was pleased with the situation. For a while, it seemed Draco really had gotten over The Potter Problem. He stopped prowling the dungeons like a beast on the hunt, at least.

Draco's resolution that he didn't want to be Potter's friend anymore lasted until November 1st, when the rumor mill busted out the story of how Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken down the troll all on their own. Not only were even the seventh years impressed, but when Draco looked across the Great Hall at Gryffindor table, he saw the three of them picking on one another and laughing and leaning in closer to whisper. He supposed there were some things you couldn't share without ending up liking each other.

He only wished he'd been there.

* * *

Draco hadn't the slightest idea how to become Harry's friend again. Ever since he'd blown the Gryffindor off with the trophy room meet-up, Harry hadn't so much as looked at him. But at least the brunette hadn't been expelled. Maybe he could find Harry at the Quidditch match. Friends watched Quidditch together, didn't they? The Quidditch pitch was neutral ground. It seemed the best place to try to get Harry's attention again, at least.

Which was how he found himself pushing his way through the stands, determined not to find a seat before locating Harry. He'd left Crabbe and Goyle in Pansy's not-so-tender care, three stands ago. He was starting to wonder where Harry could possibly _be_ , since he'd been through nearly every stand except the teacher's box, and so far he hadn't seen the Gryffindor or either of his 'friends.' His lip curled just thinking about the Mudblood and the Weasel. Draco was supposed to be Harry's friend. Draco was a worthy friend, but somehow he'd been replaced by a couple of societal rejects.

"Budge up, Seamus, you're not holding that end high enough."

Draco swallowed the sneer that bubbled up in response to Weasley's voice. Blood-traitor or not, being rude wouldn't get him anywhere with Harry. He took the last couple of steps and peered up at the jostling crowd in front of him.

It was a seething mass of red and a horrid yellow color that Draco supposed must pass for gold. He bit his lip, but noticing a few scowls turned his direction, he schooled his expression and started looking for the mop of black hair that would single out Potter. Instead, his eyes caught on the hole-ridden, rushed-looking banner that was being relentlessly tugged at by a frowning Ron Weasley.

"Come on, higher! I want to make sure Harry sees it when he comes out."

The banner, now straightened out as Finnegan scowled and lifted his corner higher and Weasley stopped tugging, flickered from red to gold, declaring "Potter for President" over what Draco could admit was a fairly well drawn lion. It took him all of a moment to figure out where Potter was, as he clearly wasn't standing near the buffoon, but in that moment, the teams ran out onto the pitch. So when Draco turned to look and confirm his realization, there was Harry down below, beaming up at the banner.

Draco wasn't sure what to do with this development. How had it happened? Should he leave? Should he go back to the Slytherins and admit defeat? The questions swirled and he was only drawn out of his thoughts when McGonagall bellowed, "JORDAN!" He shook himself, shut his jaw, and looked up. He could just make out Harry, circling the pitch at a dizzying height. As Draco watched, the boy broke into a couple of frenzied loop-de-loops. He couldn't help but smile. The move was so quick, it seemed to bristle with energy. Harry was ready for a race, that much was clear. Now back to circling, Draco realized that he hadn't been watching the game at all. And he wasn't about to watch it surrounded by Gryffindors who disliked him almost as much as he disliked them. So he made his way back down the stairs, trying to decide where he should watch the game from. He hesitated at the bottom of the stand, and spotting a break in the covering, decided to watch from here. It wouldn't be as close to the action, but he had remembered his omnoculars and if he was being honest with himself, he would probably spend most of the match watching Harry, anyway. A collective shout rose above him. Things were getting interesting again. Draco settled into the gap, took out his binoculars, and set about looking for Harry.

He growled when he saw Harry gripping one arm and the Weasel twins on either side of him, frowning. The brunette smiled, though, and he shook out his arm before zipping back up over the pitch, back to that dizzying height, which only looked more dizzying now that Draco was on the ground. He shifted anxiously as he watched Harry scan the pitch, his gaze so sharp that Draco thought it might cut straight through the lenses.

It was only because Draco was watching so closely that he saw the first lurch, and the look of shock, and then confusion that painted Harry's face. Just as the brunette was turning to look for the Snitch again, the broom gave another lurch. Draco sucked in a breath. He watched as Harry leaned, trying to turn the broom, and the broom ignored him. He simultaneously thanked his father for buying him the best omnoculars on the market and cursed him. Because he could see every emotion flickering over his friend's wide-eyed face, and he knew instantly that whatever was happening to the broom was not Harry's doing, and he was glad to know it but horrified because there wasn't anything for him to do about it. The broom gave a lurch, turning first one way and then violently swinging around to the other, and Draco once again thought how dizzying the height was. But what to do?

He looked around the stands, but no one had noticed yet. If Harry fell, no one would be watching, and Draco's Cushioning Charms weren't nearly good enough to stop his fall. So he focused on Harry again and shot sparks in his direction.

A gasp filtered through the pitch, and then the hum of people chattering, growing louder as they started to realize what was going on. Draco glanced at the teacher's box, and was slightly relieved to see Dumbledore was on his feet, wand out. The old fool wasn't good for much, but surely he knew something more reliable than a standard Cushioning Charm to break Harry's fall. If he fell. Which Draco was still determined wouldn't happen.

And it was only because he was looking at the teacher's box that he noticed Professor Snape was muttering under his breath. Another gasp through the pitch, and the Professor's eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn't blink.

"Of course," Draco muttered to himself, watching as his Head of House's muttering seemed to get faster, more desperate. "Jinxing the broom." But that didn't make sense. Snape didn't like Harry, but Draco was sure he'd never try to kill a student. And if he did, he would make sure no one would even consider foul play, not jinx a broom in front of the entire school, where anyone could tell the broom was being spelled. So he scanned the crowd, and while a lot of people were muttering, most were blinking. Quirrell wasn't, but he also looked too scared to blink, and that wasn't too out of character for him. Draco frowned. He was sure that Snape had to be Counter-Jinxing it, but who…

There was another gasp, and Draco's eyes went back up to the sky, where Harry was hanging from the bucking broom by one hand. The Weasley tins were circling anxiously underneath him, apparently thinking they would just catch him if he fell. Draco wasn't willing to put that plan to a test.

He looked around the crowd again, frantically this time, feeling his anxiety build in his chest, nervous energy so desperate and heavy that it seemed to burn. But their were too many candidates, Draco wasn't sure…

He took out his wand, not even thinking about a spell or considering what he was doing, he just jabbed it at the nearest wooden beam and felt how badly he wanted to stop anyone from hurting his Harry.

To Draco's amazement, his magic obeyed his unspecific call. The wood lurched violently, jostling the entire stand before resettling. Draco peered out again and saw the wave passing through the rest of the stadium, drawing everyones attention to the suddenly unstable ground beneath them. But Draco didn't watch, like most everyone else did, forgetting Harry's perilous situation. His eyes were on his friend, so he saw the broom give a final, violent lurch before steadying. Harry looked up at it in surprise, grinned, and started to clamber, unsteadying, back onto his broom. Draco cheered, pleased when the stands above him erupted in noise.

Moments later, Harry crash landed near Draco's hiding place. Seeing the Gryfindor gag and choke made him tense, but when he held up the snitch, Draco couldn't help but feel a rush of pride along with the relief. He smiled, watching as Harry's teammates rushed him on the field.

It struck Draco rather suddenly, that Harry had very nearly died, and would have done so without knowing that Draco very much wanted to be friends again. So when he saw the Golden Trio following Hagrid back to his hut, Draco swallowed his pride, and followed them.

* * *

Fang noticed the visitor before any of his people did. His people were busy, having a very exciting discussion that had made his Master go red, and the three little ones titter and bounce excitedly in their chairs. Fang hadn't been paying attention. He'd been dozing, half awake and half dreaming about romping across Hogwarts' grounds, chasing Kneazles. But he did notice when there was a bit of shuffling outside the door. So he lifted his head and gave a loud 'woof' to let the people know. All four of them looked questioningly at the door. Then, there was a tentative knock.

Hagrid started, but moved to open the door, scratching his beard. "Tha's strange, don't know who'd be comin' round here this hour."

And when the door opened to reveal a small, blonde boy, Hagrid was even more stumped. "Malfoy? Wha' do you want?"

The Slytherin scuffed his foot on the ground again, peering anxiously into the hut. He spotted Fang and stilled, then looked quickly back up at Hagrid. He cleared his throat. "I'd, er, I'd like to speak with Harry, if I may."

"Why would he want to talk to you?" snapped Ron, scowling.

Hagrid looked between Ron and the blonde, who was now also scowling, in confusion. "Now I don't see why ye couldn', Malfoy. Come in, then. Tea?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Thank you, but I don't suppose I'll be staying long."

"That depends on what you have to say."

The blonde looked at Harry, who had his arms crossed and a little frown on his face. He swallowed. "I'm glad you're alright."

Harry's eyebrows bunched together in surprise and confusion. "Oh, well. Snape tried to jinx my broom."

"Professor Snape was counter-jinxing it, actually."

"No," Hermione broke in imperiously. "He was jinxing it, I saw him." She huffed. "It's just lucky that earthquake came when it did, really. I mean, I would have distracted Snape if it hadn't, but all the same, it was lucky."

"Earthquake?" Draco asked. His knees felt a bit wobbly.

"Don't you learn science in the wizarding world? An earthquake is when parts of the earth's crust shift, and the ground shakes."

"I know what it is," Draco snapped, irritated.

"Well I'm sorry," Hermione said shrilly, "You sounded confused, is all."

"I just didn't think it was an earthquake that shook the stands," he retorted.

"Well if you're so smart—"

"Draco," Harry interrupted "why are you here?"

Draco bit his lip. All eyes were on him, and he felt his spine crawling with the scrutiny. He was a Malfoy for Salazar's sake, he had no reason to cower before mudbloods and blood traitors and half-breeds. He straightened himself, eyeing the others before turning to Harry. "I was concerned when you were in danger, and I thought it would be prudent to tell you that I do wish to be friends before you manage to get yourself killed."

"Prudent?" Ron asked. "Is that even a word?"

"It means 'sensible,' Ron."

"Really?" Harry asked, ignoring his friends. "Well, if you apologize to Neville, I guess we'll call it even."

Draco spluttered. He certainly wasn't going to apologize for anything _he'd_ done until Harry apologized for ignoring him to begin with. "What? It's not as if anything happened. His stupid Remembrall is still in one piece, to my knowledge."

"But it still wasn't a nice thing to do, not the sort of thing friends do. And then you went and tricked us into sneaking out."

"Well it's not as if I'm Longbottom's friend, is it? I just want to be yours."

Harry frowned. "But I don't want to be friends with someone who's a bully."

Draco sneered. "Fine, then. Have a nice life, Potter." He left, slamming the door behind him, before anyone could get another word out. He'd saved the Gryffindor's life, and this was his reward? Obviously this friendship thing wasn't worth half what it was cracked up to be.

But knowing that didn't make him any less bitter for having lost any chance of it.

Which was why, for the following weeks until Christmas, he made it his personal mission to ensure Potter knew just how bitter he was.

* * *

Thanks again for sticking with me, please let me know what you think so far and if you'd like to see this going in any particular direction.

All my best!


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